


Not Alone

by Princess of Geeks (Princess)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s06e06 Abyss, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, pre slash, season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-16
Updated: 2010-03-16
Packaged: 2017-10-08 00:49:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/71006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess/pseuds/Princess%20of%20Geeks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack's at home in bed, after his recovery from the events of "Abyss."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Alone

Jack woke, with a jerk as if he were falling. His own bedroom was strange to him, the edges of objects revealed in sharp outline, the highlights of white on the mirror and on the door's edge surreal, threatening. His medals gleamed; the sharp points picked out on the trophies glittered. He closed his eyes against the unreality of his room. He had wakened as if from a nightmare, but he couldn't remember it. The sensation of falling was all that was left. Falling hard, as if the artificial gravity of his terra cotta cell had released him.

_Aw, crap. Let's not go there. We just got out of there... Let's stay here. Right here. This is a good place._

He had closed his eyes against reality gone strange, but he opened them again, wanting to reorient. His alarm clock read 1:38. The light in the room was dim and white; it was from the streetlight. Pictures, furniture, clothes, ceiling fixture. Everything was exactly where he had left it a few hours ago when he'd put aside his crossword and turned out the lamp. He rolled, his skin brushing the warm, clean sheets. The pillow lining crinkled gently under his ear. All soft, all safe. A nice feeling, and comforting. He sighed, sinking into the ordinariness of the sensations, and noticed along with everything else that he'd awakened hard. Well, there was a first. First happy hard-on since he'd been home; first in a while, actually. He cast his mind back. Probably the first since just before they'd gone to Antarctica to check out Ancient Typhoid Mary.

But he didn't want to think about her either.

_Thinking is overrated._

Jack let his gaze drift over the patterns the streetlight made on his ceiling, and let his hand drift down, over his stomach, over his hip, to get reacquainted. Yeah, definitely he was feeling better. He liked that. It was quite reassuring. Plumbing still worked, and wow, this did, too.

_Oh, good._

He gathered up his balls first, gave them a tug and a scratch, and that was familiar. That was nice. That was good. Good was good. Simple pleasure, normal pleasure, pleasure that he could turn on or turn off, choose to feel or choose to forego. Something easy and close at hand. Ordinary. He closed his eyes and sighed, dragged his left hand to rest on his chest, let his right close in a loose fist around the shaft, toward the bottom where he could feel with the heel of his hand how the warm crinkled skin spread out. This was good.

Yeah, easy.

Without tightening it, he skimmed his fist up, enjoying the subtle but unmistakable gradations of sensation -- good, better, best. Sensations and shape -- changing, blooming, from balls to tip. He liked reminding his hand of the shape. Up, slowly, and then down, and it felt so good that he did it again. The shaft, the head, that sweet spot right there. Again. Good, amazing, even, in its simplicity. Touch yourself, let it happen. It just feels good. There is no downside.

Then more. More. More good. Faster. And now something building. No need to think, no need to worry. Nothing to be taken away, no punishment, no reward. Nothing outside this bed, this warmth, this bright pleasure that was a slow rush to intensity, coiling and purring between his legs.

He felt himself smiling. He had a moment of deciding, half-hypnotized by the nice muscle-memory rhythm of his hand, whether to push it on or draw it out. He decided to go for quick and easy. Build the wave and let it break. Nothing fancy, no teasing, no fantasies. He had some pent-up demand here, he had a nice automatic erection, okay then. Let's go.

_Come on, boy. Ah, very nice. Yeah._

Getting a little wet, using that, faster now. The coiled sparkle became a burn. His balls tightened. He let his head fall back, lolled a little on the pillow. The fingers twitched a little on his free hand.

_Ah, yeah. Yeah. Ah._

Someone giggled.

Jack's eyes flew open. He was looking at the ceiling. He turned his head. There was no one there. No one and nothing, except the same dark shapes he'd rested his eyes on, moments ago.

But someone had definitely giggled, and Jack knew that giggle. He squeezed; keeping his hand still. The pleasure was still blanketing him, coursing and building in his blood, and it was a good thing. A very good thing. Jack knew that giggle, and further, he could feel the delighted embarrassment that had prompted it. He could feel the sense of sharp surprise, the piercingly conscious regard, the amused relief. Jack closed his eyes.

_Daniel._

He kept his hand around his dick, and he didn't sit up, but he looked around again. He wanted to say, "Come out, come out, wherever you are," but he didn't. He squeezed again. He was happy. He was not embarrassed to be caught by his old buddy; jacking off was a guy thing, guys did that. No big deal. He was happy, and home recuperating, and having a day that was the antithesis of torture, and lo and behold: Daniel had popped back in. Just for another little visit, maybe to check up on his recovery.

_Hi, Daniel. How ya doin'._

Jack felt giddy. This was incredible. He was kind of high from being close to getting off, he was snug as a bug in a rug, it was the middle of the fricking night in Colorado Springs. It was ridiculous, it was perfect.

Hi, Daniel. Not very original. But that didn't matter; Daniel's amused delight built and built around him, like music, drowning out Daniel's other feelings of embarrassment and a kind of, well, yearning.

Like a tape playing in his mind, Jack heard Daniel's voice from two weeks ago. Daniel rationalizing, Daniel insisting he wasn't interfering, saying to Jack, "I'm consoling a friend." Jack could see Daniel's lips, the little frown line between his eyes, his dorky white sweater.

_Doing a pretty good job of consoling myself, here, buddy._

Daniel's happiness spiked again. Daniel chuckled again; Jack felt it. He felt it.

Jack sighed and relaxed, his startlement ebbing, all of his fleeting self-consciousness eased. He was suspended between moments, like a hammock is suspended between two trees. His wordless relief and peace blended with the now-familiar presence of his friend. Daniel was with him. Jack knew it, felt it, accepted it.

_Daniel._

There were no words, any more than there had been words when Daniel had been with him in his cell, with him on the rack. Jack knew when Daniel was with him, and he knew when Daniel was gone. Back in the cell, and during his escape and his extraction, and during his first hours in the infirmary, Jack hadn't needed a representation of a human form to know Daniel was there. He hadn't needed to see a ball of glowy tentacles either (and what was that about anyway?).

Daniel might be all glowy now, but he was definitely around when he wanted to be. When he needed to be.

Jack was pretty sure that was a thought Daniel had given him, too. Just now. So Daniel wasn't gonna appear tonight, maybe, but he was here; there were feelings, presence, regard, all that, mixed together. Relief, and peace, and happiness, and celebration, and no one was looking at him, and it was just good. All good. Safe in bed, safe at home again. And he let his hand move once, up and down, and the sparkle of his own physical pleasure moved in him, spreading out from his hand, and his old dependable body was making him happy, here in the dark, and for some reason, it was making Daniel happy, too. Jack could tell.

_Well, you don't have to go overboard, now. I mean, really._ Jack wasn't embarrassed. Why wasn't he embarrassed? Why was his hand still moving?

It was a shared ocean of sensation, as strong a feeling of communication, of _getting through,_ as he had felt in that fucking cell when he looked into Daniel's eyes. He had spent a lot of time looking in Daniel's eyes with Daniel looking right back, there in the cell, right before the end. But he'd done it a lot before that, he knew. Jack probably had months, altogether, if you counted it up, of gazing into those blue eyes. And he could see them now, even with his own eyes closed, even knowing with an intuitive certainty that he wasn't going to get a visual tonight, wasn't going to get a body or a glowing blur or even a measly puff of cold air. But Jack could see those blue eyes.

He knew what Daniel was thinking, feeling. Because Daniel was showing him.

Well, no wonder Jack wasn't embarrassed.

He let his hand move up and down again, let his mind wander, and Daniel showed him some of his own memories, shoved some more feelings at him.

_Oh? Oh. Then. You, too, huh..._

Touches. Hugs. Laughter.

Lining up empty beer bottles, arguing about the brand. Playing pool. Arguments. Dares. Chess. Watching hockey. Missions. Lots of missions. Briefings, leaves, down time. Workdays and weekends. Offworld and onworld.

Daniel was with him; Daniel was here. He was here.

Jack quit thinking entirely and let the moments, one by one, strung out like landing lights, like perfectly shaped notes of music, lead him on. He breathed faster, moved his hand faster. He was speeding up, everything was speeding up, and he turned to one side, reflex, and came into his sheets. He gasped and jerked. Everything was hidden under the covers; nothing to see except Jack on his side, bent over a little, hands under the sheet, eyes squeezed shut.

And Daniel was still there. Jack tucked his chin to his chest and listened to himself pant. For a moment, his climax stunned him into clarity. He was not sure if his eyes were open or not.

He felt the touch of the sated afterglow that you always felt from getting off -- no bad orgasms and all that. But he also felt happiness. The wave front of his climax receded, the sleepiness kicked back in -- he couldn't stay awake, not now, not after that. But, Daniel.

_Daniel._

Sleep, he thought. Sleep.

_I'll stay with you, until this is over._

I'll stay with you.

He didn't know if it was his memory or Daniel, telling him. But either way, he knew. It was the truth.

_Trust you? I can do that._

The compulsion was strong: _Sleep now._ Sleep, in a cloud of yearning delight.

Sated, safe. Consoled. Saved. At home, and loved. Jack let go, with his hands, with his mind, and slept.

 

end


End file.
